


Bee Mine

by Ukthxbye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Mention of Mycroft - Freeform, Molly Hooper Appreciation, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Sherlock is a Brat, Valentine's Day, marriage mention, the characters thought about making this smut but ha i am in control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 17:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17791511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ukthxbye/pseuds/Ukthxbye
Summary: It's the day after Valentines and Molly is 500% done with life after being stood up. But Sherlock surprises her in in unexpected ways





	Bee Mine

Sherlock Holmes, nested in his worn leather chair, legs folded. His face held a resting expression of quiet but tense contemplation in the stillness of the sitting room on a cold gray February day.

 

His eyes turned up from the rug to the door as it opened and shut with force and then to a flustered Molly Hooper.

 

“I ... ugh,” she exasperated, her shoulders falling as she dropped her bag with a heavy thud on the floor. “I’m sorry, just--”

 

“Tough day then,” he half smiled, setting his feet down on the floor.

 

She breathed deeply through her nose, the muscles in her face going taunt as she shrugged off her coat. She knew in all fairness he contributed no part to her frustration for once. But he asked her over and really, her irritation was at herself for complying.

 

"Hey let's just get to whatever you needed because I am ready to go home," she sighed, losing some of her bite in her voice.

 

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, accessing how to proceed.

 

“You could have canceled of course” He offered it gently, not positive any words would land correctly.

 

“I’m not rude... unlike some people,” she sniffed.

 

 _Ah there it is,_ he contemplated. “Hmm” was his only verbal response as he stood and approached the bookcase.

 

She paced near him on the rug. The reminder to herself of last night sitting at home fuming with ice cream and Netflix until she fell into a fitful sleep. She became irritated again, balling her hand into fists. _But again it's not his fault... I think anyway_ , she reminded herself.

 

” Work was God awful, and I had to see that arse who stood me up last night.” She looked to see if he reacted to statement and he peered back over his shoulder with a furrowed brow.

 

"Don’t look at me like that, I am not telling you his name you’ll say something and I’d rather just forget being left alone on Valentines days, thanks," she shrugged.

 

A simple smile and he returned to his searching the shelf, letting her continue her confessions.  

 

She sat hard into John’s chair. "On top of it—"

 

“I believe PMS is what you are going to say next.”

 

“Was gonna say a headache, really rather rude to... Bloody hell, how do you know everything?” she stared at him incredulously.

 

He grinned as he pivoted around, dark red dressing gown fluttering behind him, his arms behind him,  “Well, to be precise--”

 

“That was rhetorical, Sherlock,” she huffed.

 

He moved closer to her, looking down at her small frame curled up in the chair. Her dark eyes opened wide as she turned her chin up to stare at him looming tall over her. She watched his movements as if in slow motion, his hand reaching for hers. She allowed him to take it in his. With a gentle and deliberate stroke of his thumb he turned her palm up and placed a revolver in it.

 

“Sherlock…” She stared down at the cold heavy metal in her hand, shock washing over her face, missing the warmth of his hand.

 

“Both hands, you do not have the practical experience for any other stance.”

 

“But Sher—Sherlock.”

 

He turned and flopped back into his chair casually digging up his mobile from his pocket. He smirked, “Please avoid the skull print.”

 

Molly shook her head slowly, concentrating on the weapon warming in her palm. “But Mrs Hudson...”

 

“The aim is not exact so point higher than you expect for your target.” His eyebrows rose as he grinned, continuing to scroll on his phone.

 

Something bubbled up in her and she stood. Confusion but also anger and vexation she shouldn't focus on. _Well, if this works for him,_ she thought.

 

His smile widened at the first “bang” rang out in the room.

 

Two more after, making three haphazard holes smoking with drywall dust.

 

Molly lowered the gun,  chest heaving, but he spied the tiniest grin creeping into her lips and it made his own chest swell with a kind of pride.

 

“SHER-LOCK!” traveled up the stairs as the door flung open with a seething Mrs Hudson at the threshold.

 

Molly panicked and Sherlock leapt up, scooping the gun away from her before she dropped it.

 

“Oh God, I’m sorry! He offered and it--” she frantically stammered.

 

But Mrs Hudson rushed to her and grabbed her trembling hand. “Oh, dear no! It was you then! Oh, that is fine... mostly.”

 

She smiled warmly at Molly, patting her hands, but shot a look at Sherlock, more inquisitive than scolding. He smiled back at her.

 

“Just keep it down the rest of the evening if you can, dears,” Mrs Hudson asked, dropping Molly’s hands and as she headed to the door and back down the stairs. “I’ll leave you to it.”

 

He snickered, stepping back to the shelf where he hid the weapon away.  “It appears that she will let you get away with anything.”

 

Molly sighed, weary now from too much emotion at once, “So was that the experiment, to see if I would shoot the gun?”

 

“Yes… no. Not really. That was to help you. How about some chocolate?” He moved past her toward the kitchen.

 

“What?” She dropped her chin into her neck and blinked at the subject change whiplash.

 

“Chocolate, Molly. Of the candy variety. Lots of it,” he yelled from the kitchen.

 

She frowned in her confusion. “Sure… wait, you haven't had it it sitting round forever or near experiments--”

 

"On the contrary, I got it today. That’s the experiment... in a sense," he sighed with a nervous smile. 

 

She shook her head slowly as she moved around the chair into the kitchen, “I am so confused.”

 

"We need to decide which chocolate is best. They were on sale, post Valentines day after all and I wasn't sure what your favorite was so I bought them... all," he turned away to survey the bags. 

 

And she had no doubt of his statement as she spied the spread before her. The table barely visible covered in bags fill with red and pink of every variety. She noted purple and some elegant black boxes as well.

 

She laughed softly as she searched through the bags. “What sort of madness…”

 

He studied her face looking for some understanding to fall across it but none and he knew he must be more forthcoming. But the words stuck in his throat and he gulped them down.

 

“Oh Hotel Chocolat? But even on sale these are not cheap, “she smirked, picking up one of the black boxes. “But they are fantastic. Cadbury is my usual go to though.”

 

She picked up one of the bars that said “ _I Love You”_ on it, but then set it down as she looked around the table more. A part of her mind read it, but rejected any meaning.

 

Sherlock closed his eyes painful squeezing them tight. His plan, flimsy as it was, seemed doomed to failure already unless she caught on. A small fear that he would have to come outright crept into his stomach, causing it to flutter.

 

“So you really bought these just because they were on sale?” She pressed, sensing she missed another reason.

 

“I bought them today because it's logical not to pay full price for the same chocolate,” he grunted. He licked his lips, stealing a glance as her as he moved around the table, “but I have other motives.”

 

She absorbed his last words, but she pushed away the desire to pursue their meaning. Her defenses did it naturally now. Her eyes locked on a glass flask though clearly it was decorative in nature and not one used in actual chemistry. Filled with colored chocolate truffles, she picked it up for closer inspection.

 

“Oh, this is really cute,” she grinned biting her lip as she angled to read the tag.

 

From the corner of his eye, he concentrated on her reactions, feigning interest in another bag of chocolate. But his heart started beating much too loud in his ears.

 

“Alcohol truffles, hmm,” she smirked and laughed, “You really believe I’m a lush don’t you?”

 

He gulped as she bent her stare up to him, locking eyes, “Molly, I didn’t mean it like that I--”

 

She put a hand up to stop him, still giggling, “I’m only teasing. Don’t get all worked up.”

 

Even now, his nerves exposed themselves and something in her mind questioned it, seeing him gulp and his face tense, but his eyes soft. _But no, why would he?_ She internally shook away the thought.

 

She read the names of the chocolates.  “Golden Kiss” sounded delicious, she noted and then she saw a name circled with red pen. Odd, she wondered, but it did not appear to be on purpose from the chocolate maker. It said “Bee Mine.”

 

He held his breath, stepping silently closer to her.

 

She snickered nervously “Sherlock... why is this one cir--”

 

Her eyes landed at his chest as she turned to ask him, and the words died in her throat. One part of her mind screamed “no” and the other knew with all certainty what was happening.

 

His smile faint, and shy even, she pondered as she slowly lifted her eyes up to meet his. He searched her face to see if he could proceed. Confusion coloured her cheeks pink, but he alleviated that emotion soon. He leaned down much in the same as he had done before but with a different target.

 

She froze in place as his lips pressed gently against hers. The kiss chaste but tender and over as quick as it began as he leaned back. Her brown eyes wide and blinking, jaw dropping without a sound.

 

He licked his lips, and with a low voice explained, “I think perhaps there is some understanding now of my meaning, but if I may elabor--”

 

She cut him off with her lips smashing into his as her arms wrapped around his neck. His turn for a shock but he responded accordingly, his hands finding her lower back. How long they kissed neither could say, lost in a new sensation.

 

But just as suddenly, she let his lips go, dropping off her toes, and stepped back. He perceived the loss and leaned forward instinctively but she stiff armed him.

 

“Sherlock, we need to stop,” she said, taking quick breaths between words.

 

“Why?” he asked huskily.

 

“Sherlock... listen, I don’t know what this is, but it's weird ok?”

 

He scoffed, placing a over hers on his chest.. "How is this weird? I admitted I did this for you, I asked you to be mine, in quite a romantic way I might add which," he huffed, "I did with no help. Well, at least that part--"

 

“No. There’s more to this” she shook her head slowly.

 

“Exactly.”

 

"No, not like that I mean. That you want—Wait a second."

 

"I want you." His other hand found her lower back again, but she pushed back.

 

“No, hold on. Go back to where you said you got help,” she said as her eyes slanted.

 

“I didn’t get help for the chocolate part I did that myself... which I think by the ridiculousness of it that it is quite obviously my idea.”

 

She shook her head at him and pulled back from his grip, “Stop. What other help did you need and what else will happen?”

 

He pursed and then bit his top lip. “Well, I do have dinner being delivered.”

 

"That doesn't require help."

 

"I also bought ice cream for you that you love."

 

She folded her arms, “Again, you have been in my flat that is easy... and thank you.”

 

He smiled softly and moved to take her in his arms again, but she stiff armed him once more. Drawing a deep breath through his nose, he hung his head and stepped back away from her hand.

 

“What kind of help Sherlock?” Her voice rang low and demanding and he knew another confession lay in his future if he took less care.

 

“You’re making a deduction of your own though I believe your evidence is not sound. It's merely a statement.”

 

“Don’t try it, I need you to be honest. My date I had yesterday. Did you say anything?”

 

“You know I was not at Barts yesterday. The date was still on for the day before as he flirted when he dropped at that report to you.”

 

“And you were there. You could have talked to him after.” She raised an eyebrow.

 

“And yet he text you that night.”

 

Frustration tightened across her body, “Yes, God how you know that but yes. He stood me up yesterday afternoon but you weren't at Barts at all yesterday, right?”

 

“You may check the register of visitors. I was not there.” He leaned back against the counter, mirroring her crossed arms.

 

Molly grabbed a chocolate as she turned to pace the kitchen, hoping it would help her think. She forgot they were booze laden. _God, they are amazing. Wow no, focus._

 

"One of my coworkers? No, a text," she murmured as she swallowed the chocolate.

 

“I’ll show you my phone.” he strolled into the sitting room and then remember it as in his pocket. She followed on his heels and he pivoted to face her. She nearly ran into him. He held his phone up to her eye level.

 

“You’d just delete it,” she sniffed, looking around his phone to catch his eyes.

 

He rolled his eyes though he knew she was correct.  “Yes, but what would be the point? Besides, if you really need this evidence,  Mycroft can send all the records if you want. I can text him.”

 

A calculated risk; texts with Lestrade about the conversation were still on his phone but confident he could convince her to drop the matter.

 

“No... ok. No, it was someone else with access…” she squinted her eyes screwing up her mouth in thought as she paced and sat in his chair. He stared at her. No one sat in his chair. She appeared so small in it. An image of cuddling with in it flashed across his mind but flew away when he saw her face light up.

 

The lightbulb went off, and Sherlock peered cautiously at her.

 

“You got someone else to do it,” she said, a small knowing smile creeping across her lips as she cocked her head to the side and looked up at him.  “And John is out of town. It was Greg.”

 

“Brilliant” he whispered as his lip curled up.. He meant it and he couldn’t deny it turned him on a bit but that feeling turned to confusion as she leapt up putting a finger in his chest.

 

"Sherlock Holmes, you used a cop to intimidate a date of mine that is not brilliant," she said through her teeth.

 

Sherlock stayed rooted in place, capturing her eyes with his as he spoke calmly, “Molly, he didn’t intimidate him, give Lestrade more credit.”

 

"What did he do then?" She shifted closer to him. The sensation earlier in his arms missed and compulsions to repeat the action washed over her but she still wanted to know the truth.

 

Sherlock moved fully into her space, slipping a hand over her hip to her lower back as he pressed against her. "He only suggested of how wasted any effort would be to date you since you had more... exigent desires than this person could ever provide."

 

She wanted to be angry. She needed to be mad at him. He deserved for her to tell him off and what for and rage about the years of everything he said and did to her. His arrogance was... _dammit._ Her resolve crumbled like sand as he slowly leaned down to her ear, caressing it with his breath.

 

"You must forgive me for eliminating the competition." Her shiver vibrated through him and he added to the effect, kissing her neck just below her ear.

 

Overwhelmed she squirmed out of his hands and stepped in the kitchen.

 

"Tea?" Her voice croaked a bit as she grabbed the kettle and he grinned, strolling into the kitchen, taking up a large piece of random chocolate from the wrapper and popping it in his mouth.

 

"Sure," he mumbled through his chewing as she glanced at him and then back to fill the kettle.

 

"Sooo," he drawled out.

 

"I am not mad. I should be but... you did buy me a ridiculous amount of chocolate and... but look, ok…" she turned to him, making sure his attention was all hers. "We take this slow."

 

He nodded,  " I understand completely... I'll put a cancel on those wedding invitations then."

 

Her eyes opened wide in shock again but closed them when she noticed his smirk. "Sherlock…"

 

"We'll discuss our life plans over dinner; it will be here soon but first, a gift." With that said he walked out the kitchen.

 

The kettle beep made her jump, and her nerves exposed their edges as the mugs clinked as she took them down.. But curiosity won and after she poured and set the tea bags, she walked into the sitting room. He returned with a small red box.

 

"I don't have anything for you," she apologized lowering her eyes to the box.

 

"You're here and you haven't run out the door or slapped me. That is sufficient I promise," He spoke softly as he stepped and picked up her hand. He rubbed it with his thumb, tracing the lines and then placed the box in it.

 

"Open it, please" he smiled tenderly.

 

She lifted the card on top to read, but all it said was "Yes I do." She glanced up to see his face expectant and a little bit puppy dog eyed. She couldn't deny its enduring quality.

 

Gingerly lifting the box top, she reached in and pulled out an old brown coffee mug, mildly familiar and worn. In her focus she missed him moving behind her and she sighed as his arms wrapped around her.

 

"Is this?"

 

"Yes, the same mug. I stole it from the hospital and kept it all these years. Why I did I couldn't yet piece together until now. The coffee you served me was not pleasant."

 

She giggled at the memory, "That was on purpose, actually."

 

He laughed, "I surmised as much..," then he sighed heavily " I deserved it."

 

"But why... I mean why the mug now?"

 

"This is my apology. And an offer of the correct answer I should have given that day," he whispered into her ear. "Consider it as a promise to correct the trajectory of my past."

 

As he settled his chin on her shoulder, she studied the cup. She didn't recall it specifically though she remembered a brown color as she thought about it. But he didn't forget, he never does she mused as she leaned back into his embrace.

 

A tiny part of her mind seemed awkward in his arms, she pined and wished away the feelings so long she hardly knew what to do with them.

 

As he spoke softly, he nuzzled her neck near her hairline, "I forget nothing of importance my Molly."

 

She drew in a ragged breath as his lip brush lightly down her neck.

 

"You're making that 'take things slow' part difficult, I'm starting to think on purpose," she whispered with a nervous giggle.

 

He smiled lifting his head back,  "Excellent deduction once more. But you are correct, we should have dinner first."

 

He pivoted to her side running his fingers gingerly down her arm before grabbing her hand in his. Lifting it up to his lips as he held her stare once more.

 

 _Damn those eyes_ , she mulled as warmth spread across her body.

 

"Tea is getting cold, " he smirked as he lowered her hand and tugged her toward the kitchen.

 

"We can't have that now can we?" she scrapped her bottom teeth across her lip nervously as she set down the box on the counter.

 

He dropped her hand as he picked up her mug and hand it to her. They both leaned against the counter, sipping in the quiet. But they stood closer than they ever did before, sides touching tight. They both smiled to themselves at new physical comfort.

 

"So... what are we going to do with all this chocolate?" She laughed lightly. "We aren't going to eat it all."

 

His chest warmed with every use of the word "we" as he studied her as she spoke.

 

"We'll keep our favorites and…" he pulled out his mobile, began texting and laughed. "My street informants will have a sugar high to last for days."

 

"You could offer some to Mycroft." She took a sip of her tea, glancing to the side to see his reaction.

 

Sherlock scoffed, " And ruin his diet I'd never hear the end... of... NO, yes!" His sudden shout made her jump.

 

He bit his bottom lip devilishly, "Oh the look on his face if he came to retrieve it and saw us snogging. Or even better, you in one of my shirts--"

 

She smacked his arm. "I'm not gonna be used to rile your brother up."

 

He grinned, "Think of Christmas dinners, though. He'll be outnumbered with a sister-in-law... oh." he realized too late his tongue got ahead of him and spilled his thoughts. He held his breath, searching her face.

 

Her mind reeled, knowing he spoke candidly albeit unintentionally. But with a deep breath, her nerves calmed, and she grabbed his hand, noting a small tremble vibrating through to hers which matched. She laid her head against his arm, "So much for going slow, eh?"

 

He kissed the top of her head, hearing the bell ring downstairs,  "How about dinner first?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for Mouse9 beta work.
> 
> The descriptions of the chocolates are real. Hotel Chocolat really did have the one described and it’s adorable af.


End file.
